A Life for a Life
by Angel of Gethsemane
Summary: Harry thought that he knew darkness, he had stared it in the face often enough. But when faced with a faulty Time Turner, a war, the destruction of a ring, and no way home; he decided that he'd have to reevaluate what darkness truly was. HP/LotR. NoSlash.
1. Prologue

A Life for a Life

_Harry thought that he knew darkness, he had stared it in the face often enough. But when faced with a faulty Time Turner, a war, the destruction of a ring, and no way home; he decided that he'd have to reevaluate what darkness truly was._

...

_Disclaimer: I own no rights to Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. This is for fun only._

_AN: Past events follow through HP book seven, with disregarded epilogue. Inconsistencies to be explained throughout._

Prologue

_**~Hogwarts – May 4**__**th**__**, 2005 - Morning~**_

Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks all landed hard on their knees in the infirmary of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They immediately looked around at one another in confusion and shock as Poppy Pomfrey rushed to their aide.

Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley were almost directly on her heels as was Minerva McGonagall, and she was the first to ask what the five pushing themselves to their feet were thinking. "Where is Harry?"

Hermione, suddenly realizing that a familiar weight around her neck was missing, felt for the chain and the gold hourglass. She gasped, "My Time Turner is gone!"

The other three instantly reached to their own necks. "Mine's gone too!" Ron exclaimed.

"So are ours," Remus and Tonks said at the same time. Neville simply nodded for the same.

"But you all have your emergency Portkey?" the Headmistress asked worriedly.

They all looked to make sure their badges were still attached to their robes, even though they'd all felt the pull of the Portkey bringing them there, and then nodded. That was when an explosion rocked the very foundations of the school and everyone ran to the windows that overlooked what was left of Hogsmeade, now engulfed in a raging inferno.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed with tears of fear in her eyes as she saw the blaze that was quickly consuming the deserted town and the location of their friend.

All of a sudden, a small globe that McGonagall always carried with her since the Headmaster's death, started to let off a high-pitched whistle and she pulled the glowing white orb from within her robes. She looked up at the others, tears coming to her own eyes. "Lord Voldemort is dead," she said quietly, almost a whisper.

"And Harry?" asked Ron hesitatingly.

McGonagall held the duel colored globe only facing in one direction. She slowly turned the ball around for the others to see, the other side was as well glowing white. "He will be remembered," she said shakily as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

_**~Hogsmeade – Ten minutes previously~**_

The group stopped warily at the edge of what was once the town square of the village. The shops and houses around them were now little more than burned out shells. Unsteady skeletal walls and foundations stood bleakly against the rising sun. That was all that remained of Hogsmeade. The Fiendfyre had done its job spectacularly well and Voldemort had been more than pleased with his young followers. Harry remembered that day well, for it had been the last day that he'd been able to see anything more than shadow with his normal eyes.

"Do you suppose he'll even show? Or send some of his lackeys again to try and ambush us?" Ron asked as he held his wand tight in his hand and stared around at the desolate village center warily.

"If he doesn't show, we'll just capture his Death Eaters again, and then maybe Harry will finally allow us to kill the thing," Neville said, looking at Harry beside him, who didn't look back, simply staring blankly in front of him. Harry didn't much look people in the eyes anymore; he felt that it unnerved them.

"He'll show," Harry whispered after a moment. His firm grasp around the ivory staff he held in his left hand, tightened slightly. It was the only show that he was even the slightest bit apprehensive about his own plan, otherwise, he almost appeared bored to the others.

Hermione set an enchanted cage down roughly a few feet in front of them and then backed away so that she was aligned with the others again. "I still think we should have killed it first," she said with distaste in her hardened voice and looked at Harry, who this time turned to look at her scared face. She was the only one he ever really did look at these days, for Hermione was one of the few that really only looked at him too.

"Perhaps you are correct, Hermione," Remus said quietly, placing a hand on both her shoulder and Harry's comfortingly. Harry looked back in front of him as Remus continued. "However, Harry is right, he would hide himself away until he was fully recovered and then eventually he'd created another. One we wouldn't know about."

"It's passed the time," Tonks commented, interrupting Remus anxiously. "Maybe he doesn't want his pet back after all."

Harry suddenly took a step forward, his staff clunking on the blackened stone beneath his feet. "He's here," he said with a small smile on his lips.

"I see you are just as in tuned to me as ever, Harry Potter," a hissing voice came from in front of them and then Lord Voldemort and several robed and masked Death Eaters appeared before them.

"_The stench of your twisted magic is so distinct, how could I not know you had arrived_," Harry hissed eloquently in Parseltongue, simply so his friends would not understand and he took another step forward to stand beside the cage. He leaned down and placed his hand on the top of it almost lovingly. "I knew you would come for her."

"If you have harmed her…" Voldemort warned, taking a step out of the ranks of his Death Eaters.

Harry smiled morphed into a cruel smirk. "Relax, Tom, she is unharmed, _for now_," Harry stressed the last words as he straightened.

"I have come as requested, now release her," Voldemort stated with strained civility.

"I release her now, and you will run, again," Harry stated. "Give me what I want first."

Voldemort motioned negligently to one of his Death Eaters. "Give Potter his precious traitor's antidote," he sneered and a Death Eater walked forward warily.

The black robed Wizard held out the vial to Harry, who took it in his right gloved hand without looking at it. He clenched it in his hand for a moment and then without moving his eyes from Voldemort, handed the antidote out to Remus behind him, who took it. Remus uncorked the vial and sniffed at it lightly. He then waved his wand over the contents before placing the cork back atop it.

"It is it," he stated quietly and pocketed the vial.

Voldemort's impatient stare turned to a glare as Harry made no move to remove the charms that locked the cage. "You have your antidote, Potter, now give me back my Nagini," he snarled, taking another step forward.

Harry smirked callously. "_Did you really believe all I wanted was to get the antidote from you_," Harry hissed coldly and Voldemort's glare turned nearly lethal. Remus placed his hand again on Harry's shoulder cautioning him with the movement, though he didn't know what Harry had said, the look in the Dark Lord's eyes was enough.

"Is it not enough? A life for a life, Potter; that was our deal!" shouted Voldemort.

Harry chuckled darkly and shrugged away Remus' hand. "_Oh there will be a life for a life, Tom, but his is not the one I truly care about. He is no more important to me than your precious Nagini is to you. In fact, I've come to care about very little because of you. What I want is a duel to the death, between you and me and no one else,"_ he said almost casually in Parseltongue. "Neither of us can live in this world and I am sick of sharing it with you!"

"_You wish for your own death so readily do you_?" Voldemort hissed in turn. "So be it. A duel, Potter, you shall have!"

Voldemort pulled out his wand in a swift motion and his Death Eaters all stepped forward. The others behind Harry gasped, but Harry stood motionless before them. He didn't even draw his wand.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione whispered. "You aren't following the plan."

"I've scrapped the plan," Harry said simply and switched his staff to his gloved hand. He then pointed his left hand at Nagini's cage. His hand glowed slightly at the palm, but otherwise nothing happened. "Just you and me, Tom," Harry warned, nodding at the cage, making it quite clear what he'd do if Voldemort didn't comply.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes into mere slits. "Of course, Potter. Stand aside," he ordered the Death Eater's simply.

The Death Eaters all glanced at each other and then stepped back several paces. Harry nodded at his friends behind him briefly. They all had uncertainty in their eyes, but too backed away, reluctantly leaving Voldemort and Harry to face off against each other. They'd all agreed before coming out here, to go along with whatever Harry said.

As soon as they were all clear, Harry raised his hand away from the cage and then sweeping his hand in an arching motion behind him, his friends disappeared with a pop and five Time Turners came to his hand. He shoved them in his pocket as Voldemort watched him carefully and curiously with narrowed eyes.

"They were only in my way," Harry said with an almost careless shrug. Voldemort's eyes narrowed all the more and then started to circle him slowly, with his wand pointed at him. Harry stayed where he was.

"Where is your wand?" Voldemort hissed. "Are you to give up so easily, Potter? I thought you wished a duel between us?"

"Destroyed," Harry answered quietly and Voldemort smirked in triumph and raised his wand further.

"There is a bomb attached to Nagini's cage," Harry said simply. Sparks suddenly flew out of the end of Voldemort's wand as he advanced on Harry, who stayed calmly where he was. Voldemort raised his wand to Harry's temple. "It's set to go off thirty seconds after she's released, regardless of who releases her."

"And why are you revealing this to me?" Voldemort snarled.

"I've released her," Harry said calmly and Voldemort's eyes widened and he took a step back to Apparate away, but there was no time…

_**~Somewhere in Time, or a Moment Later~**_

Pain, all encompassing pain that was all Harry Potter knew. He knew there would be pain when he released Nagini, he'd accepted that. But he had no thought that it would last this long. He wanted to scream, but he had no voice. He had no air to breathe and his lungs burned as if he'd swallowed fire. Hot wind rushed around him, pulling his body in every direction. He felt like he was being torn apart from both the inside and out and if he could think, he'd realize he was.

The wind and pain disappeared so suddenly and completely that he was startled as his feet slammed into solid ground. He had a brief moment of thought that he didn't remember leaving the ground, when he collapsed under the impact. The scorched ground rushed up to meet him as he fell, landing harshly on his side. Harry groaned and tried to push himself up, but he lacked the strength to do so, and collapsed completely as his arms gave way. He let his head lay against the surprisingly cool dirt ground tiredly, his long hair hiding his eyes from the night sky, as oblivion overtook him.

…

_AN: Onward!_


	2. Into a Time Not of My Own

_Disclaimer: I own no rights to Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings._

_AN: Some speech is taken directly from Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the Ring, chapters ten and eleven._

Chapter One – Into a Time Not of My Own

_**~Middle Earth – 3018~**_

"That is Weathertop," a strong male voice spoke calmly, as if explaining something to a child. "The Old Road, which we have left far away on our right, runs to the south of it and passes not far from its foot. We might reach it by noon tomorrow, if we go straight towards it. I suppose we had better do so."

"What do you mean?" another, smaller voice asked.

"I mean: when we do get there, it is not certain what we shall find. It is close to the road," the stronger voice answered.

"But surely we were hoping to find Gandalf there?"

"Yes; but the hope is faint…" the voices trailed off, as they got further away.

Harry groaned as he pooled his strength and managed to push himself up onto his hands and knees with effort. His arms shook violently, as he held himself up, and opened his eyes. However, what he saw was nothing more than shadow.

He wasn't sure how long he had laid there before his senses came to life and he could hear the sounds around him. Consciousness was followed by the feel of pain and weakness, and though the pain had faded, the weakness remained. He also felt very confused, he should not be alive.

Breathing deeply from exertion, he managed to sit back on his knees and concentrated on allowing his eyes to see auras, the most he thought he could manage at the moment. He blinked several times as the magic raced over his eyes, making them tingle, and then he looked. The area was teeming with life.

He was in a forest, or nearby one, at the least, but the plants and trees were dull to him and the animals he saw scurrying about had no magic, which meant he was not in the Forbidden Forest, where everything, even the smallest mouse and largest tree had some sort of ambient magic. Harry remembered the first time he'd looked upon it with mage-sight, as Harry had come to call it. He'd thought he'd gone completely blind it had been so blindingly bright, but not nearly as bright as Hogwarts had been that first time.

Harry slowly turned his head in the direction of the voices he'd heard and could see five auras that were definitely of slightly magical nature and of human shape, and one that was an animal, possibly a small horse or a pony, if the shadowed shape and grayish aura was anything to go by. Four of the shadowed auras were the height of small children, but their coloring indicated age passed that. The fifth had more magic than the others and was tall, taller even than Severus Snape, who Harry had always had to look up to. Harry certainly looked up to this person, and would, even standing at his fullest height.

He breathed out shakily as he continued to stare unblinkingly around him, trying to figure out where he was. The last he remembered was being engulfed in the blast of Fiendfyre that had erupted from the magical bomb attached to Nagini's cage, and then the tug of his Portkey that he was certain he hadn't activated…

Harry suddenly stiffened when the group stopped and the tallest of the five figures came swiftly moving back in his direction. Harry's hand instinctually groped the ground beside him and grabbed for the staff he knew had to be there somewhere. His left hand closed around its smooth, cool, ivory surface, and with effort, he drew it up in front of him and hissed two words.

"_Guard me_!"

He knew his command was received when there was a gasp and the shadowy figure came to a dead stop, as his very much real serpent was now coiled in front of him, poised and threatening to strike with deadly intent if any harm should come to Harry.

"Who are you, from where do you hail?" the voice of the man spoke, keeping his distance still. He had a dangerous lilt to his voice that made Harry stiffen even more and made his serpent hiss warningly.

Harry, with good reason, was ill trusting of strangers these days and chose not to answer the question. Instead, he asked his own. "Who are you?" Harry asked, with just as much coldness in his voice, though it was ruined by the fact that his voice came out scratchy and Harry flinched openly as fire burned his tattered throat. The other shadowy colored figures started to come forward.

"Strider, what is it?" a timid voice asked.

"Stay back, young Hobbits," the now known _Strider_ commanded warningly.

Harry blinked as his aura sight failed him and the world was plunged into darkness, and smudged shadowy shapes. His magic was weakening with his body and he needed to know who was in front of him, friend or foe, before he could no longer use it safely. "_Sisera, sight,_" he hissed tightly to his serpent and he could see, distortedly through his serpent staff's eyes as she looked up at the five, taking each in.

The tall one was a man of stature, was all Harry could think. He was broad shouldered, but lean. He dressed oddly; they all did, even for Wizards, which he was certain, they were not. No wands and their auras were too different from Wizards, but they all wore traveling cloaks over their odd garments.

The four child-sized, _Hobbits_, as the man had called them, looked like little men and not children at all. They were barefooted, though it seemed not to bother them. They weren't goblins, or house elves, and they certainly weren't small enough to be gnomes. Harry really didn't know what to make of them. Though he became more wary when he saw that Strider carried a sword, and he held it down at his side warningly.

"Peace," Harry gasped out, as Sisera's sight left him. He really was in no condition to fight anything at the moment, if he couldn't keep his own serpent's sight, who was a piece of his magical core and his soul.

"Your name stranger," commanded Strider.

"Yours first," Harry bit back roughly. He was adamant on this. The man could be a Death Eater for all he knew, though he doubted it at this point.

"He is Strider," one of the Hobbits spoke up.

"Pippin," another of the Hobbits scolded.

"Merry, can't you see that he's injured and wary of us, as much as we are of him?" Pippin insisted.

"He's right Strider, though he does dress odd, I don't believe he's of any danger to us," another of the Hobbits spoke.

"It is unwise to say so, Hobbit, but you are both correct in your statement. My name is Harry," Harry breathed reluctantly. His voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew it carried to the others. He was becoming too tired to care though, and he just wanted to let unconsciousness take him again, but not until he knew, he was safe from harm. He knew Sisera would protect him, but she could not grow larger than she was without his magic to aid her.

"I am Frodo Baggins of the Shire. These are my companions Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took and Samwise Gamgee, also of the Shire," one of the Hobbits introduced immediately and with no hesitation.

"You can call me Pippin, and him Merry," Pippin spoke up. Harry simply nodded, as he could only tell the difference between the four by their voices at the moment.

"And you are Strider?" Harry asked quietly as his throat burned viciously. What he wouldn't give for water.

"Yes, I am a Ranger of the North."

Like the term Hobbit, that meant nothing to Harry and he simply nodded again, wondering where he was and why he'd never heard of Hobbits before. Sisera hissed questioningly to him and Harry held out his hand. "_Sisera, come_," he commanded in Parseltongue, thankful that the speech needed little of his vocal cords and didn't cause his throat to burn nearly as much as regular talking. His serpent slithered to lay across his held out hand. She immediately straightened back into the staff and the four Hobbits gasped in surprise.

"Sorcery, are you a Wizard?" Strider asked warily.

"He can't be; he doesn't wear the robes that a Wizard wears and he's far too young," Pippin stated as if it were fact.

"How would you know, Pippin, the only Wizard you've ever seen is Gandalf? How do you know that Wizards don't dress that way, and Gandalf is the one who dresses odd," Merry countered smartly. "And he could be a young Wizard," he added with uncertainty.

Silence met that statement and Harry couldn't help but smile slightly. These Hobbits were amusing. Harry with difficulty, pushed himself to his feet, he swayed a moment before he steadied himself. "I am what I am and that is indeed a Wizard," Harry said breathlessly, as he leaned on his staff. He didn't see the need to hide what he was; he'd already used magic in front of them anyhow. And if they guessed what he was so easily, then they already knew about magic.

"You are very young to be a Wizard of your rank," Strider stated.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Rank, what rank did he suppose he was? After all, he had been of age for years now. "I'm not so young, but I am as you say," he stated.

Harry swayed again and Strider steadied him with a strong hand. "You are not well."

"No, I'm not," Harry answered truthfully. "Could you perhaps point me in the direction of a near-by town or city," he asked, flinching horribly again at the burning in his throat that just seemed to be getting worse.

"You are many days journey away from any town, Wizard."

"M-many days, where did I end up?" exclaimed Harry hoarsely. The question was more to himself, but it was answered anyway.

"You are eastward of the Weather Hills, perhaps a day, a bit more, to Weathertop," Strider answered.

Harry could only stare blankly. "I don't think I'm in Scotland anymore," Harry whispered to himself. He'd never heard of these places before.

"Scot Land?" asked Frodo. "I have never heard of Scot Land. Have you, Strider?"

There was silence for a moment and then Strider spoke. "I have never heard of this land either, is it to the south?"

"Oh no," Harry whispered with dread. It had always been a possibility. The researchers in the Department of Mysteries had always said so, a very rare possibility. It had never actually been proven, but a possibility all the same. "In broader terms, where am I?" Harry whispered hesitantly, he really hoped they said somewhere in the British Isles.

"On the east edge of Eriador," Strider answered.

"Broader," Harry said simply, there was always the possibility that he'd never heard of the region, he didn't get out much, and never really paid attention in geography during primary.

"Middle-Earth," Harry heard the one they called Samwise speak up hesitantly.

"M-Middle-Earth," Harry gasped. "_Oh, just great, Hermione's going to kill me_," Harry hissed distantly. "_And then dissect every single thing I did to cause this_." Harry took a deep, rather agonizing breath, and then brought himself back into the here and now, before he went into a panic about how he'd possibly managed to end up in another dimension entirely. "This Gandalf, you say he's a Wizard?" Harry asked tightly after a moment of calming himself down.

"He is, a Grey Wizard," Strider answered, caution in his voice again. "You have not heard of Gandalf the Grey?"

Harry shook his head. "I seem to find myself very… very lost, and I think this Gandalf might be able to help me. Are you by chance traveling to meet him?" he asked quietly. Harry hoped that a Wizard of this place was of the same caliber as he was, or he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to find his way back.

Strider was silent for another moment and Harry could feel his stare on him. "We are, though it is doubtful that we will catch up to him before we reach Rivendell."

Harry tried to swallow past the burning in his throat, but his throat was too dry. "I know I am a stranger to you still, and I may be slow on my feet for a time, but may I travel with you until we reach this Gandalf?" Harry asked. He could feel his strength wavering and he clutched tighter to his staff as Strider seemed to think it over.

"Frodo, it is your choice, are you comfortable with taking on another? Be cautious in your answer, it will slow us down."

Harry could feel Frodo's eyes on him, though he didn't look in his direction.

"We can't leave him, Mr. Frodo, it just don't seem right."

"I agree, Sam, it would be impolite to leave him here injured and weak as he is. If he can walk the distance, we should take him, at least as far as Gandalf is."

"If I could have some water, I can walk the distance," Harry said with certainty that he didn't feel. If he had to, he'd tap into his core to keep himself going. He had no idea where the nearest civilization was, and he had no wish to come upon the dangers of this place in his current state. Traveling with those who knew the area would be much wiser.

"Very well," Strider said.

There was a pause and then Sam spoke up again. "Mr. Harry, Strider is holding out a water skin to you."

Harry stilled for a moment and then reached out. "Forgive me, I –"

"You are without sight," Strider stated, with some surprise in his voice.

Harry sighed. "Yes, I am."

"You nearly fooled me," Strider said rigidly.

"I did not mean to mislead you. I can function well enough without my sight and have ways of seeing when I am well, which I am not," Harry said, breathing heavily.

Strider put the bag in his hand and Harry took a few gulps of the refreshing and cool water, not too much, as he didn't know how far they would have to travel before they could obtain more, and now there was one more to add into the rations.

"Thank you," Harry said after a deep sigh as the burning in his throat lessoned considerably. His voice was coming back to a more normal pitch and he could feel a bit of strength returning to him. Harry took another sip of the water and wondered if there was something other than water in the cask to give him his strength back so quickly. "This is good water."

There was a pause, as if Strider had nodded. "You are welcome. We should be off. It is not safe to stay here longer."

Harry nodded at that. "Lead on, and thank you for letting me accompany you." Harry tried to hand the water skin back, but Strider pushed it back towards him.

"Keep it. You may yet need it again, and I have another."

Harry nodded again. "Thank you," he said again and then feeling for the rope he felt tied to the bag, he draped the thing over his shoulder and they started off.

...

Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed before they finally stopped to make camp for the night. There had been little conversation on the journey and none when they'd finally stopped. He was so exhausted that he probably fell asleep faster than the Hobbits did, though when he awoke in the morning he could feel his magic flowing strongly through him again. It wasn't complete, but it was more than he thought he'd gain back in only one night, especially as he'd slept on the cool ground, with little more than his robes to protect him against the night air.

Before he even sat up, he used his magic to give him artificial sight. Truthfully, he couldn't wait to see what the land looked like, that he had managed to transport himself too. Harry opened his eyes, blinking at the sensation of being able to see after a day going without.

He had hoped with Voldemort's death that he'd have more time to find a way to fix his eyes. Madam Pomfrey had said that it could be fixed with time, that if magic could allow him to see, then magic could fix the damage done by the Fiendfyre. But Harry just hadn't had the time. He was, however, quite used to it by now. It had been a few years. He was very lucky that the attack hadn't taken his eyes completely. He wouldn't be able to even use spells to see if that were the case.

Harry sat up and looked around. The land they were camped on was rather flat, though hills rose not too far off and there were scattered trees about, sheltering their camp. He could also hear what was probably a wide stream trickling nearby. Everything was tinted in a light purple haze, but that was the price of using magic to see. Strider was stoking up the fire with a stick and all but Frodo was still asleep under their traveling cloaks. The sun was low on the horizon, which meant it was still rather early.

Harry stretched wincing slightly from the soreness in his muscles caused by the journey the day before and the night on the ground. He blinked and magic tingled across his eyes, allowing him to see magic, which was a very tangible thing around him. Ignoring the familiar waving mist that hovered just over his skin, he scanned over his black battle robes for anything amiss. His robes were thin and form fitting, but they were designed to protect him against spell fire and blades. They were made of the finest dragon skin, and given to him for his last birthday by non-other than Draco Malfoy.

At first, Harry was skeptical about wearing the robes that fell to flow around his ankles, certain that they would hinder his movements in a duel, but they actually did the opposite. Though they didn't appear it, they were almost feather light, and they allowed him the freedom to move as if he wore no robes at all. Harry honestly considered the robes among one of the greatest gifts he'd ever received and they already saved his hide more times than he cared to count.

Harry looked carefully at his hidden pockets, which were concealed, even to him with normal eyes, and sighed when he saw his magical weapons still encased in them. Hermione had insisted on Harry having hidden compartments in his robes that had expanding charms on them so that he could always be armed, even when it appeared otherwise. With the amount of times hit wizards had tried to take his life, Harry was grateful for the idea. Having an extra weapon or two on him certainly made him feel more comfortable in this strange land as well.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and was about to dim his eyes back to normal when he caught the sight of the palm of his left hand. He stared at it in shock. There was an hourglass outline shining in the palm of his hand. How he hadn't noticed it over the last day, Harry wasn't sure and he wondered if it was actually visible, or completely inside his hand. He blinked his sight back to normal and ran his right gloved hand over the raised portion of his palm, it was visible and it was his own old Time Turner. Harry knew, because it was silver and not gold.

Harry ran his hand over his robe and found one of his concealed pockets. He reached his hand inside and found his friends' Time Turners. All were still set for ten minutes back in time; the one in his hand must have been the one that had brought him here. He returned the Time Turners to his pocket, thoughtfully. That was one small part of the mystery solved. Of course, now he had to figure out how to get back. One could not travel through dimensions easily and he didn't believe replicating the circumstances that had brought him here was going to be his solution. After all, that could quite possibly just land him in another dimension entirely.

Harry reached beside him and picked up Sisera and then he stood. She went limp in his hand and then coiled around his arms and slid up over his neck, to lay across his shoulders. Frodo and Strider glanced over to him as he shuffled over to the fire silently; deep in thought, and stroking his serpent. They left him in peace, probably believing that Harry thought they were all still asleep as he hadn't given them any indication that he could see.

What had happened? What had gone wrong? Harry pondered as he sat down in front of the fire. They had planned so the trap wouldn't hurt him and the others if they timed it right. But he also knew that the bomb more than likely would level the area, and if their Portkeys didn't work because of the magic… Harry shook his head. He hadn't wanted any of them hurt or killed again, and yes, he meant again.

Just about seven years ago, the day that was supposed to be the final battle, was the day Harry had made the biggest mistake of his life. The Battle of Hogwarts had ended spectacularly with him surviving the Killing Curse again, and popping up just in time to kill the Dark Lord in the Great Hall with one simple disarming charm and in front of a good chunk of the population of the Wizarding World.

While everyone else was celebrating the end of Voldemort, Harry had been sitting alone in the Headmaster's Office, exhausted both physically and emotionally, and just starting to grieving for those he'd lost; they'd all lost. He'd seen the slightly open drawer before, but hadn't taken the time to look before rushing off to what he'd been sure was his death. He didn't know what had made him open it this time, when he'd not done so before the battle, but he had and he found inside, an old, silver Time Turner.

Harry had known he shouldn't have even considered using it, but so many had died. Fred, Colin, Remus, Tonks, Snape… And those were of the few he personally knew. It had only taken one spin and then the day had rewound, leaving Harry determined to save everyone.

While the Harry of the original time was running around Hogwarts, fighting Death Eaters and generally trying to survive, Harry had set about saving those he'd lost. And he, unknown to everyone else, had created a paradox within himself. When the original Harry had confronted the Dark Lord in the Forest, something had gone wrong. He'd died when Voldemort had cast the Killing curse at him, leaving Harry to kill Voldemort in the Great Hall again, but to never actually take the time turner to start the loop. And in the process, the Horcrux that was Nagini was overlooked.

Voldemort had died, again, just like he had before, but not entirely. Within a year, he was back and more powerful than ever and thus started the third war, or continuation of the second, if you were Harry. By the next year, the Ministry, which had been pulling itself back together, was in pieces again. Hogwarts was officially closed not a year after that, with the destruction of Hogsmeade, and St. Mungo's Hospital had been destroyed with countless innocents still within its walls, not three months later. By the time Harry was twenty-one, the Ministry was being run by the Death Eaters.

Before he was twenty-two, anyone of Muggle-born status was either in hiding or no longer a part of Magical Britain. Muggles were flocking in drones to the mainland to get away from "terrorist activity" and "bizarre weather patterns" by his twenty-fourth birthday, the Wizarding World was on the brink of no longer being a secret. There was of course the Order of the Phoenix and several other resistance groups, but all of them combined were really no match for those who had flocked to Voldemort after his second rise from the dead. More people saw him as a god, more people feared him. What was worse was that everyone looked to Harry to save them again. It had come to be known that the only person Voldemort feared was The Boy Who Lived, and so before he'd really even got a chance to start on his own path in life, he'd been thrust back into the routine of fighting for others and just generally trying to survive.

The plan to trap Voldemort had literally fallen into their laps. Harry, Remus, Snape, and a few rogue Aurors had been following up on a tip on Voldemort's current location, not really believing he could be there, when Harry had seen Nagini in a tree and blasted her out of it. Harry had almost killed her, but then Severus had cautioned against it. Perhaps in the past, Harry would have ignored Snape's words, but he'd grown to trust the other man, and he was glad that he had, as Remus had uncovered the possibility of Voldemort creating another Horcrux, one they wouldn't know about, after his last was destroyed. Harry had argued that if he could do that he would have already, but then Severus had been poisoned and Voldemort demanded Nagini back unharmed in exchange for the antidote. Harry had then decided to finally bring an end to Voldemort, using Nagini as the bait.

The idea to use a Time Turner was for secondary caution only, and the idea had been for himself only. He had objected quite vocally with his friends using them as well. He of all people understood how dangerous time travel was. They'd argued that if he was going to have one on him just in case the plan went to hell, so that he could try again, then they should too. They hadn't backed down, so Harry had reluctantly agreed.

Harry knew that with so much magic already in the area that the Portkeys weren't likely to work as they should once the Fiendfyre was released, so the Time Turners were a contingency plan. But he hadn't spent the last seven years keeping people that should have died, alive, just so that they could die with him in the end. At the last minute another plan, a safer plan, had presented itself, and he'd scrapped the original plan.

He was fully prepared to die after setting the device to explode, if only to keep Voldemort there just that much longer. He'd pulled his friends Time Turners to him so that they wouldn't be able to have the chance to turn back time and save him while possibly giving Voldemort the opportunity to escape again. He could only assume that when the device had exploded, it had jarred the silver Time Turner, pulling him to another dimension and somehow embedding it into his hand. How the Time Turner had made him travel to another dimension? That was still up for deliberation. As was how the Turner had gotten into his hand, as he'd not been holding it at the time. Harry hoped this Gandalf person could help shed some light on his unanswered questions.

Harry had thought that when he had taken his friends Time Turners and sent them back early that he was saving their lives and sacrificing his own in the process. He hadn't expected this though. He hadn't thought it would land him in an entirely different dimension. And if the way these people lived was any indication, a time far behind his own as well.

"_How old is the youngling do you suppose_?" Sisera hissed into his ear lightly, bringing Harry out of his musings. Harry smiled in amusement.

He rather wanted to know the answer as well. He chuckled lightly. "Frodo," Harry said and Frodo jumped slightly at the sudden attention and looked up at him. "Sisera would like to know, how old you are. She's never heard of nor seen a Hobbit before, and neither have I. She believes you a child, though I dare say you are not."

"I just celebrated my fiftieth birthday."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. "I honestly hadn't thought you were older than me," Harry said. "_He's fifty, Sisera_," Harry hissed to his serpent, when she hissed at him impatiently. Sisera drew back and looked up at him incredulously, in a very human like manor. Harry chuckled again.

"You can speak to your serpent?" Strider asked as he stared at Harry.

"Yes, I'm what my people refer to as a Parseltongue, which means I can speak the language of snakes, large serpents, and even some types of dragon."

"You've spoken to dragons!" Pippin suddenly exclaimed from behind him as he and Merry sat up instantly and scrambled to sit on either side of Harry like eager children about to hear a bedtime story.

Harry laughed at their excitement as he remembered his brief time in Romania with Charlie before everything started to fall apart again. "Yes, I have briefly, and it was a very one sided conversation. She was yelling at me to get away from her hatchlings, which I had no idea I was standing near, as they had disguised themselves as the stones around them."

Merry and Pippin were practically hanging on his words, as they both gawked at Harry. "You must be a great traveler, Mr. Harry," Sam said, coming to sit with the group. "Only Mr. Bilbo has ever told stories of dragons."

Harry followed him with his eyes, until he sat down. "I suppose you could say I am, and please, just Harry," he said with a small smile.

"You can see!" Frodo suddenly exclaimed.

Harry looked over at him. "Yes, Frodo, I can see."

"How?" asked Strider.

Harry turned to the man. "It's a spell I enhanced when I first lost my sight. It serves its purpose, but can be unstable and doesn't hold for more than a few hours before I have to cast it again."

"You must be truly powerful. I have never met a Black Wizard before, though Gandalf has assured me that they are not to be trifled with," Strider stated.

Harry blinked at him, furrowing his brow in confusion. A Black Wizard, how had he gotten that idea? Was it because of his clothing? But how did that determined how powerful he was or not? Harry wondered what the difference was between a Grey Wizard, as Strider had called Gandalf the day before, and a Black Wizard. Were there other types of Wizards, and what were their colors? Harry suddenly snorted as the image of a Wizard in bright purple robes popped into his head. It made him sorely miss Dumbledore.

"Are you not a Black Wizard?"

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it. "To be honest, I'm not sure on this Wizarding system. Where I come from, we are all the same at the basic level, at least. We don't really have ranks unless you include our blood and family status. Once I meet Gandalf, I will probably be able to tell you what kind of Wizard I am."

Strider nodded in agreement. "You have been sincere to us, and not brought us harm, so I will warn you. If we don't meet Gandalf at Weathertop, we will be meeting him in Rivendell. The Elves there may not welcome you as we have."

Elves, Harry thought, he couldn't mean House Elves, could he? "Thank you, Strider, for the warning, I will heed it," Harry said gratefully and then stood from his place at the fire. "I'm going to refill my water skin, are there others that need to be filled before we set out?"

"Oh yes, mine is nearly out," Pippin said as he popped up and ran to grab his. Merry followed soon after and then all of them were handing them over.

"I will help you, Harry," Frodo offered and picked up two of the skins.

Harry smiled, and grabbing the others, followed Frodo to the stream. Frodo was about to dunk the skins under the icy water when Harry stopped him. "I have an easier way of doing that, if I may, and you won't freeze your hands." Harry held out his gloved hand and Sisera slithered down into it and then immediately flowed into the staff. It had been a while since he'd used his Serpent Staff to do magic, but he didn't want to reveal his wandless abilities just yet, at least until he met with Gandalf and he could gage just how powerful he was compared to the other Wizard. Harry knew he was ridiculously powerful among his own people, some even thought him more powerful than Dumbledore, though Harry doubted it.

Harry pointed the head of his staff at the bags and then concentrating he levitated them and then cast a spell to make the water from the stream filter into the skins. The lot of them were filled within moments and Frodo stood on the bank, gaping at them in awe as Harry floated them back and corked them all.

Harry chuckled and then handed Frodo two of the full skins. "That was marvelous!" Frodo exclaimed as he took the two.

"That?" Harry said with a laugh. "That was simple." Harry laughed again when Frodo continued to gawk at him and then they headed back to camp.

"Harry, why do you wear a glove on only one hand?" Frodo inquired as they rejoined the others who were busy making way to move on again. They all stopped to look up at him, all glancing at his hand briefly, and seeming to just realize this.

Harry cringed slightly at the memory and then pulled off the glove. He held up his heavily scarred hand, looking at it in memory as well as sight. The skin was skin colored, but looked like it had been placed in a vat of acid up to his shoulder, and his fingernails were blackened at the base.

"A few years ago, there was a fire in the village where I lived," Harry said quietly, remembering. "It was started by a group of people who wanted to see me dead. They couldn't find where I was, so they set a magical fire to the entire village in retribution. There was a cottage not far from mine with three young children in it. Their mother had managed to get the two oldest out, but the fire had spread too far and was too hot for her to go back in for her youngest.

"I went in and pulled the boy free from the fire. I didn't notice my sleeve had caught until we were both out and the fire engulfed my hand. There is little that puts out Fiendfyre. I barely managed it before it could catch to the rest of me. The heat from the fire burned more than my skin. I lost my sight that day as well." Harry pulled the glove back on as the others continued to stare at him. "Many lives were lost that day and ironically my home was the only one in the whole village left standing."

"You are very brave to do what you did, Mr. Harry," Sam said softly. "I would never have been so brave."

Harry smiled slightly. "A wise man once told me that bravery comes from many sources, Samwise Gamgee. I believe that day, mine came from the knowledge that the fire never would have been started if it hadn't been for me. The least I could do was save one family the grief of losing a loved one."

The others blinked at him for a moment longer and then started to finish packing up again silently, each in their own thoughts. After a few minutes, Frodo started telling the other Hobbits of what Harry had done at the river. Harry only stood by, watching in slight amusement, as the others listened in amazement and the atmosphere was lightened considerably. He did notice though that Strider began to watch him with more interest afterwards.

...

It wasn't long before they left their camp behind and continued on. Harry felt much more comfortable walking with the odd group this day, not only because he could see, but also because he didn't have to worry about falling behind. In fact, as if to prove to them that he was fine, he walked ahead a ways, not too far, he could still hear them behind him talking.

"_Do you feel it? It is so cold, but hot all the same_," Sisera hissed into his ear and Harry nodded.

"_I know, I've felt it mildly as well, but I'm not certain which one it's coming from_," Harry hissed back. He had decided to carry her today, not in much need of a walking stick, and he valued her conversations. It was truly almost like talking to himself, she was so much a part of him, yet she had her own personality. "_It feels like a Horcrux, but much different. It whispers darkness, much like Tom's magic did, though I find it easier to ignore. It may be a magical artifact. I'll ask when I figure out who carries it_," Harry told Sisera. "_I have their trust now. I wish not to lose it so soon_."

"She's quite remarkable," Strider suddenly said from beside Harry and he nearly jumped in surprise, he hadn't heard him approach. "Forgive me, I hadn't meant to startle you."

"No, I wasn't paying attention," Harry said waving it off and then he suddenly laughed. "Severus would slaughter me if he found out I let you sneak up on me. He says I need to be more vigilant."

"Who is Severus? A Wizard like yourself?" asked Strider with interest.

"Yes, he was once my teacher and now he's a very close friend of mine."

"You miss him," Strider stated without reservation.

Harry stilled a step, was he that obvious, or was Strider simply that observant. "I do," he admitted. "Though, he would call me a sentimental fool if he heard me say so."

"He would disapprove of this sentimentality?" Strider asked.

"He would declare that I am not controlling my emotions as I should be. That his teachings have been but a waste of his time, and why should he have ever bothered with an imbecile like me," Harry said matter-of-factly.

Strider frowned at him. "He seems overly harsh, this Severus."

Harry barked out a laugh. "That's nothing. I get that almost every day. I've come to expect it in fact, Severus and harsh, rather go hand in hand. I don't believe he can be anything other than severe. That however, in itself, I've come to find is one of his endearing qualities. His standoffish attitude gives him his sharp wit and amazing intellect. He isn't a man to show falsehoods, he is simply who he is. If he ever even hinted at being nice, I would know right away that something was terribly wrong with him."

Strider looked contemplative at that.

"I think it's getting easier making these long treks," Sam commented, coming up behind the two, with the other Hobbits following along with their old pony in tow.

"I say so, and I think Frodo's looking twice the Hobbit he once was," Pippen declared.

"Very odd," said Frodo, tightening his belt, "considering that there is actually a good deal less of me. I hope the thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith."

"Do not speak of such things!" said Strider quickly and with surprising earnestness.

Harry did hope that wraiths were not commonplace in this place. Dealing with the wraith that had been Voldemort in his youth had been bad enough. He did not wish to come across another anytime soon.

…

_AN: To be continued._


	3. The Black Riders and a Knife in the Dark

_Disclaimer: I own no rights to Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings._

_AN: Some speech is taken directly from Lord of the Rings._

Chapter Two – The Black Riders and a Knife in the Dark

"_Harry, look_," Sisera hissed to him urgently, bringing Harry out of his thoughts as he watched Sam and Pippen sifting around what looked like an old camp, while Strider, Frodo, and Merry hunted around at the top of the hill.

With a thought, Sisera immediately slipped from his shoulders and straightened into the staff and Harry caught her easily. He clutched his hand around her and leaned a bit on the staff as he looked out over the distance that was the darkening landscape they'd sense left behind over the past days.

He stared hard at the black shapes making their way across the land in their direction. It had been three days since he had joined this motley group, and never had he felt anything like what was approaching. He stared for some time, trying to make heads or tails of what they were. They looked like riders, but there was something dark – no _evil,_ about them.

"Harry, we are making camp in the sheltered part of the dell," Strider said as he approached. "We should not be standing here in the open."

"_What_ are they?" Harry asked, still watching the shapes.

"Black Riders," Strider said simply and left to return to the camp.

Harry stared for another moment and then turned and followed, though he couldn't get the feeling of dread to leave him. Something was going to happen, something bad. Harry sat down at the glowing campfire with the others, though half his mind was on the Black Riders. He'd been told about them on their journey, but he was sure he'd only conceived half of the true story.

He half listened to the tales being told, as he clutched his staff, which lay over his lap. He would have let Sisera to her serpent form, but he wanted to be prepared for whatever it was that was coming. He was tempted to pull a blade from his robes, but he didn't know how his companions would perceive that. They were quite the jumpy and suspicious sort and he'd yet to show that he carried any weapon other than his staff.

Harry had closed his eyes in a slight meditation while Strider weaved his tale in his deep and melodious tongue. His voice reminded him of Severus' as he'd taught Potions, strong and domineering. Harry felt himself drifting in memories of times before Voldemort had destroyed his world. Before Severus had become deathly ill from the poison, he'd been fed. Strider and Severus weren't so different, Harry had decided. Strider was kinder, but they both had a way of speaking that made you listen. Snape was even good at storytelling, though few knew that. He hoped his friends had been able to get the antidote to him, but Severus had been awfully weak when he left.

His eyes suddenly snapped opened when Strider stopped talking, but it wasn't because of the end of the story, it was something else. Harry looked around at the Hobbits who were shuffling around, getting ready to sleep, when he noticed Sam and Merry weren't among them. He was about to ask where they had gone, when the Hobbits in question returned.

"I don't know what it is," Sam said, "but I suddenly felt afraid. I durstn't go outside this dell for any money; I felt that something was creeping up the slope."

"Did you_ see_ anything?" asked Frodo, springing to his feet.

Harry stood as well, as Sam moved closer to the others, clearly shaken. "No, sir, I saw nothing, but I didn't stop to look."

"I saw something," said Merry as he popped up by Pippen's side. "Or I thought I did – away westwards where the moonlight was falling on the flats beyond the shadow of the hill-tops, I _thought_ there were two or three black shapes. They seemed to be moving this way."

"Keep close to the fire with your faces outward!" cried Strider. "Get some of the longer sticks ready in your hands!"

Harry looked around at the clearly frightened Hobbits and then to Strider. "You don't seriously intend for them to fight?" he questioned.

"I do indeed if the need arises," Strider answered seriously and the Hobbits did as they were told. Harry looked over them worriedly. They were so small, what chance did they have? If they had magic at their disposal, like House-Elves or Goblins, he wouldn't have been so concerned, but they didn't.

Harry in that moment decided, as they all stood in silence that they might need a bit more help. He reached into one of his many hidden pockets and drew forth a very sharp silver and gold handled sword that gleamed wickedly in the firelight. Harry admitted, despite Severus' teachings, that he wasn't the best swordsman, but anything sharp and pointy, usually was a deterrent. He took a stance at the ready. The others looked over at him in wonder and apprehension as a determined, almost cold glare settled into his magic infused eyes.

None had the time to comment though, as a shadow suddenly rose over the dell followed by five black figures. Harry hissed as he clasped tightly at his sword in one hand and his staff in the other. They weren't like Voldemort's wrath form had been, they were more substantial, but the darkness that radiated from them was almost overpowering, and the cold left Harry's mind remembering other wraithlike black figures from his past.

"Fire," Harry heard Strider whisper decidedly as Merry and Pippen succumbed to their terror behind him. Harry only nodded and tapped his sword to his staff briefly, and with a clang, the metal burst into flames though the hilt remained cool in Harry's hand. Harry advanced at the shapes as they advanced on the small party. As he took on one of the Wraiths, he was surprised to see Frodo disappear out of the corner of his eye, completely vanish, though the others didn't seem to notice.

The distraction cost him and he felt a sharp icy pain pierce his left side. He barely flinched as he fought back the Wraiths, swinging his flaming sword at them. They advanced on Harry, seeming to almost ignore the others and Harry swept his staff down in a line in front of him, causing a bright warm light to engulf the area around him. It was a weak Patronus Charm, but soon the Wraiths fled, clearly realizing they were up against more than they had anticipated.

Harry sighed, relieved the charm had worked. He hadn't known if it would, but he had assumed that if the flames worked to deter them, then the charm might as well. Harry released the magic he was channeling through his sword, and the flames disappeared, and then he turned to look back at the others. He gasped and dropped his sword, clutching at his side.

"Are you injured?" Strider asked concern evident in his voice.

Harry didn't give an answer, instead he nodded to Frodo. "Is he?"

Strider was at Frodo's side not a second later and Harry pulled his hand away from his side briefly and then clamped his hand back again. It was a long, but deep gash. He was amazed that the blade had managed to pierce his robes at all, but worse he could tell there was poison in the wound by the too dark tinge of his blood.

"Harry?" Pippen asked uncertainly as he looked from the unconscious and injured Frodo back to Harry. "You were hurt too," he said quietly.

"I'll be fine, Pippen," Harry said in a reassuring and calm voice that gave nothing away to his own concerns. "Go see to your companions," he said and then walked over and with a wave of his staff stoked the fire up so that the area was brightly lit and warmed. He waved his hand at his side discretely, and his wound was bandaged securely and his clothes repaired. He wished he had studied up more on healing charms when his friends did, but even if he had, he wasn't sure if he could heal this one with the poison already in his system.

He summoned his sword to him and hid it again, and then settled himself in front of the fire. He looked over at Frodo uncertainly. He felt as if there was ice flowing through his veins and he hoped Frodo hadn't been stabbed by the same type of poisoned blade as he had.

...

It was much later that night, nearing morning in fact, just after Strider had gone off for a second time, that Harry came to a decision he did not like, but saw no other alternative. Strider was intent on staying off the road, a good idea with being pursued by the wraith-like riders, but as Harry watched Frodo toss and turn and felt his own wound fester, he feared the delay could be detrimental to him, perhaps them both, whether they could be helped or not.

Harry waited silently beside the fire, his hand clutched tightly around his staff, as pain coursed from his wound, though he showed no signs of it to the others. When Strider arrived again, this time with a dark tattered cloak in hand, Harry spoke up.

"We must take the road."

Strider turned to him. "The Riders will come back upon us immediately if we do so."

"And we will fight them off again," Harry insisted and then motioned to Frodo. "That wound will not heal on its own."

Strider's eyes narrowed. "You are too concerned with a wound you know nothing of." Harry looked away from the Ranger's piercing eyes. "You've not moved from that spot since you sat," he whispered with realization in his voice. "You were injured."

Harry nodded stiffly and glanced back up to the man. "There is poison in my blood, but I don't know what it will do to me. It is taking my strength quickly," Harry answered truthfully.

Pippen, Merry, and Sam looked between their dozing friend and Harry with fright in their eyes. "Poison?" questioned Sam quietly.

Strider picked up a broken blade from the ground and looked it over. Before their eyes, the blade disintegrated, leaving only the black hilt behind. "This is the blade that made Frodo's wound."

"Enchanted," whispered Harry.

"Few now have the skill in healing to match such evil weapons," Strider said shortly. "But I will do what I can."

Harry watched as the man sat on the ground beside Frodo, and taking the hilt, laid it on his knees. He started to sing over it slowly in a language Harry had never heard before. A spell to determine the poison perhaps, though Harry had thought Strider had too little magic for such a spell.

Strider spoke to Frodo quietly, too quietly for the rest of them to hear and then from the pouch on his belt, he pulled out the long leaves of a plant. "These leaves," he said, "I have walked far to find; for this plant does not grow in the bare hills; but in the thickets away south of the road, I found it in the dark by the scent of its leaves." He crushed a leaf in his finger and it gave off a pungent fragrance.

"_Athelas_," Harry said immediately, recognizing the smell.

Strider looked up and nodded. "You know of this plant?"

Harry nodded with a small smile. "Severus uses it as a base for many of his healing salves," he said with wonder in his voice, perhaps their worlds were not so removed from one another as he'd first thought, with the same name used for the same plant.

"Then it must grow in abundance where you are from," Strider commented.

"He grows it himself as with most of the plants and herbs he uses," Harry stated.

"It is fortunate that I could find it here, for it grows now sparsely and only near places where the Men of the West dwelt or camped of old. It is not known in the North, except to some of those who wander in the Wild. It has great virtues, but over such a wound as this its healing powers may be small," Strider explained.

Harry watched as Strider threw the leaves into a pot of boiling water and then bathed Frodo's shoulder. The fragrance of the steam relaxed Harry a great deal, and as memories of the past washed over him, he started to slip into a light sleep.

Harry dreamed of long hours sitting in Severus' lab, while he brewed Healing Potions for the Hospital Wing and Harry practiced with his mage-sight as he struggled to teach his magic how to see for him. It had been during one of those times that Severus had inadvertently given Harry the idea to create Sisera.

Harry's hand unconsciously tightened around his staff as he slept. His serpent-staff was beautiful and a work of art. When he had started, everyone had said that it was impossible to create a sentient animal that could switch from a non-living object that could be a magical focus to a living creature with magical properties, and with only a few words, but Harry had known he could do it, because it had been done before.

He'd originally come up with the idea from the biblical story of Moses. He'd needed something to focus on while he was training himself to see, and Severus had given him an old Muggle Bible. He probably had been hoping it would put him to sleep so he'd stop bugging the dower Potions Master, but it had done the opposite.

Harry had been fascinated by the story of Moses, even more so when he started to realizing how similar he was to Moses. They were both chosen to free their people from evil after all. Harry's evil was just more literal and a bit harsher than slavery. The fact that he'd probably never live to see his world Voldemort free, only made his and Moses' lives all that more the same.

Sisera had come from the idea of the staff God had bequeathed upon Moses; a simple, ordinary staff, which had the ability to not only turn into a serpent, but also eat two other snakes created by what was obviously magic. It was fascinating that the staff allowed Moses to turn a river into blood and the whole parting of the sea was a good trick too. The story of Moses was full of magic, and it made Harry wonder about its true origins.

Harry was brought out of his memories and dreams by Strider's hand on his shoulder and a concerned look in his eyes. Harry shook himself and looked around, the sun had risen, lighting the sky considerably. Harry assumed Strider had woken him to tell him they were moving on and attempted to stand, but Strider pushed him back down.

"Let me see your wound."

Harry hesitated. He looked over to the Hobbits who were eating a light breakfast, to Frodo, who looked too weak to stand, and then back to Strider, who Harry was grateful to see was blocking their view. Harry shrugged off his robes, and with gritted teeth pulled up his shirt and removed the now soaked bandage; he hadn't realized he was still bleeding, though lightly.

"You should have told me about this, this is far worse than Frodo's," Strider said quietly.

"I've had worse," Harry said and then looked away with pain clearly written across his face as Strider bathed the wound.

"I guarantee you have not," he whispered and Harry looked back up to him. There was fear in Strider's eyes.

"What's it going to do to us," Harry demanded in a very quiet voice, so as not to alarm the others.

"If the poison is allowed to reach your heart, you will become as they are, but to a lesser extent. They will have command over you."

"Then I cannot allow it to reach my heart for I will never allow anyone to have command over me. What of Frodo?" Harry asked as he waved his hand and bandaged his wound again.

Strider stared at it for a moment in surprise, but then looked back at the Hobbit. "The poison is less. He has more time than you, though he seems to be fairing worse under it, he has little strength."

"How many days to Rivendell?" asked Harry.

"By the road, seven perhaps eight, longer the way we will have to go to avoid the Riders," Strider answered.

"Too long for me then," Harry said with certainty. Strider opened his mouth as if to combat that statement, but Harry shook his head. "No, I can see it in your eyes. You are debating taking the road for my sake. Don't, your duty is not to me, but to them. I cannot protect you all again, and I will only slow you down. I will take the road and hopefully reach Rivendell before this poison defeats me."

"You may bleed to death before then," Strider stated as Harry repositioned his robes.

"I will take that chance. Besides, I have found that I am a survivor of many things," Harry said truthfully and with a little humor in his voice.

Strider looked at him uncertainly, then back to the Hobbits, and then nodded reluctantly. "All right, we will go separate ways at the road then."

It wasn't long later, slowly and cautiously, they made their way around the southwestern slopes of the hill and came in a shortly to the edge of the road. Harry was leaning heavily on his staff and was already using his magic to keep himself from collapsing, though he did not let the others see his effort. Seven days was a long time to keep himself going like this, but he hoped to cut the journey in half by Apparating using line-of-sight. He wouldn't be able to do it too often, but even once a day would cut the time down greatly. If he had ever been to Rivendell before, he would just Apparate all the way, but he'd rather not Splinch himself trying without a potion on hand to counteract the damage.

It was as they were hurrying across the road, that one of the Hobbits noticed that Harry wasn't following. Pippen stopped on the other side and looked back at Harry, who stood at the edge, watching them go.

"Come along, young Hobbit," Strider said quietly.

"But, what about Harry?" asked Pippen and the others turned back.

"He's taking the road to Rivendell," Strider answered and then ushered the others on. He looked again at Harry as they walked away. Harry saw uncertainty and sadness in the Ranger's eyes. Strider didn't believe they'd see him again. He nodded at Harry, clearly saying farewell.

Harry stared after them until they disappeared into the thicket and then he turned in the direction Strider had told him to go. He looked over the distance, as far as he could see and then vanished with a small cracking sound.

...

Four days, Harry had been alone on the road. He'd not seen even a single living creature, which normally would have put him on edge in itself, but he was too weary to care. A short while earlier, he'd taken shelter just off the road for the night, in a scattered corps of trees, and had hopes of getting rest, but no sooner had he settled in, had it started to rain and even the warmth from his sheltered fire didn't reach him.

Harry wrapped himself tightly in his robes and leaned his head back against the tree he'd settled under. He closed his eyes and wondered after his companions as he listened to the sounds of the rain falling. His strength was leaving him quickly, especially at night, and soon he'd no longer be able to see, as his magic was leaving him just as quickly as his strength. He wondered how Frodo fared. He hoped better than himself.

Harry opened his eyes and stared through the thick tree branches to the night sky and then he let out a bark of weak laughter. All around him was clear night sky, but directly over him was a large raincloud. It wasn't so much funny as ironic that he'd choose the one place to sleep that it would rain.

Harry breathed in deeply and closed his eyes again, at least he was dry, if not warm, but with the icy poison slowly flowing through his body, he was beginning to believe he'd never be warm again. Harry was just starting to doze off when he heard a rustle of leaves off to his right and bolted into a sitting position, and immediately grasped his staff firmly, even as he clasped his other hand to his burning side.

He scanned the area with his mage-sight and quickly found the source of the noise. Harry slowly and unsteadily stood to his feet. It was a Rider, he was sure of it, but it didn't seem to have seen him yet. Harry lightly stepped sideways away from the tree and then took a step back. A loud crack sounded under his foot and then the rider was charging towards him and Harry couldn't find the will to run.

He raised his staff instead to defend himself, but before he could come up with a spell there was a flash of lightning followed by a crash of thunder, and out of the darkness came a blur of movement, racing towards him and the Rider. Harry stumbled back and purposely fell to the ground to avoid being trampled, but the beast flew over him and towards the Black Rider. It reared on its hind legs and kicked out, pushing the Rider back, who fled not a moment later.

Harry carefully got back to his feet. The scene that had just played before him bore remarkable similarity to one in his past, and as he turned to look, he almost expected to see a centaur standing before him. However, that was not the case. He froze as black eyes settled upon him. He was the blackest horse Harry had ever seen. At least sixteen hands high, and held an intelligence Harry had only seen once in a non human-like creature before, a Thestral, but this was no Thestral. Harry had to admit, he was petrified by the beautiful animal.

The horse turned and took a step towards Harry and Harry took a step back and another, until he was back against a tree and the horse was standing over him. The beast snorted and pawed the ground and then butted his head into Harry's chest.

Harry shakily brought his bloodied hand up and touched the horse's nose. "Hello," Harry said breathily. "Thank you, for saving me, I think." The horse snorted again and Harry laughed nervously, he really hoped this creature was as friendly as it seemed. A wave of dizziness suddenly washed over him and he slid down the tree, as weakness, greater than he'd ever felt settled upon him. "Though I think it was in vane my friend," he whispered shakily and put his hand back to his side.

He closed his eyes as his breath came in short pants and a sweat broke over his brow. He was so tired, and as much as he wasn't ready to go yet, he knew he was dying. The horse nuzzled his shoulder, pushing him slightly, and Harry opened his eyes. The beast was kneeling beside him.

"What? I'm sorry, but I don't have the strength," Harry whispered.

The horse snorted and then grabbed at his robes with his teeth and pulled hard. Harry blinked at the horse. He understood, but he didn't believe it. Harry nodded and mustering the last of his strength, pulled himself up onto the beast's back. He clutched at the horse's mane with one hand and held his staff firmly with the other as the horse pushed himself back to his feet. Moments later, they were racing down the road, in the direction of Rivendell.

...

Harry blinked open his eyes groggily, and groaned as his head pounded lightly. He felt a presence in the area close to him, but he instantly knew it wasn't who normally sat with him. There was a softness, an innocence about the person that Severus Snape could never possess. It was probably Ginny or Hermione, as Poppy would have been at his side afore now.

"Hermione," he whispered and it came out more breathily than he would have liked, as he tried to gain the person's attention.

A startled gasp met his ears. "Lady Arwen, I believe he is coming to," a melodic female voice said and shuffled away from him.

Harry stiffened at those words and sat up abruptly against the protests of his body. That was decidedly not Hermione or Ginny. Suddenly his mind cleared and his memories of the last days started to come back to him. But where was he? Had he made it to Rivendell? The last he remembered was falling from the horse who had rescued him, and landing on the banks of a river before losing consciousness. He'd thought he was dying.

Harry needed to see. He felt sorely at a disadvantage without his sight. He felt for his magic, and then deeming it acceptable, even if a little lower than he would have wanted, enacted his mage-sight. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted and then looked around and took in his new otherworldly surroundings. He was in an open airy room, and sitting in a soft, white-sheeted bed. He could hear voices from the large open window behind him and the open door to his right, but he didn't recognize the language that was being spoken.

Harry carefully felt down his bare torso, and found a clean white bandage secured around his waist. He carefully unwrapped it and saw under the bandages little more than a jagged red scar where his wound had been. They'd done a remarkable job in healing him, whoever they were. The area around the wound was no longer icy cold, though the wound itself still felt cold to the touch. Harry pulled his fingers away from the scar, wondering if there was going to be any lingering effects from the poison. His muscles certainly were protesting, though that could be from lack of movement for however long he'd been asleep.

Harry looked back up from his newest scar at the sound of someone entering the room. He blinked. What he was looking at could be nothing other than an elf, and was definitely no House Elf. She was tall, graceful, perfectly beautiful, and almost hidden beneath her long brown hair her ears were pointed. She was simply put, elegant. Well, didn't he feel inadequate in her presence.

"Umm, hello," Harry said uncomfortably, pulling the sheet pooled at his waist, up a little higher. Was the woman really making him feel this self-conscious?

The elf smiled lightly, almost as if she were amused, and really, she had a right to be, Harry felt downright embarrassed to be in her presence. She came and sat down carefully on the edge of his bed. "Good day. I am Arwen. You have been asleep for many days. I am glad to see you have finally awoken."

Harry's breath was nearly taken away by the melodic quality of her voice. Really, he needed to get himself under control. Severus would be ashamed of the way he was going on. She could be his enemy for all he knew. "I take it, that I am in Rivendell then," he finally managed to say.

Arwen nodded. "Yes, you are."

Harry sighed lightly. "I'm Harry. Strider sent me ahead after I was injured at Weathertop. Please, is Gandalf the Grey here?"

"And _Strider_ and your companions as well," she said with a lightly amused smile.

"They've arrived already?" Harry asked with some shock as he wondered just how long he'd been out. And then he remembered that he wasn't the only one injured that night. "Frodo is he…"

"He is well. He awoke not a day ago in fact," she answered his question before standing. "When you feel well enough, your clothes are there, and Merith will be waiting down the way to take you where Gandalf is waiting to see you."

"Umm, thank you," Harry said as she moved to leave him. She nodded with a smile and then walked through the door.

Harry sat back, and wondered at the odd occurrence that he wasn't being forced to stay in bed after his ordeal. Poppy would have never allowed him even to move before giving him a thorough check over. Harry frowned and wondered, not for the first time since arriving in Middle Earth, how his friends were fairing in his own dimension. He'd not given himself the chance to think fully on it before, but they most likely thought he was dead. And if he couldn't get back, they'd never know the truth.

Harry sighed and then decided he'd been in bed long enough. Poppy would kill him dead if she knew he was leaving bed before he was truly sure he was well enough, but if Frodo had woken a day ago, and he was fairly certain that he'd arrived in Rivendell at least a few days ahead of them, then he had been asleep for quite a while. Harry's stomach suddenly growled as if confirming his thought.

He slipped out of bed and made his way with only slight unsteadiness to his neatly folded pile of clothes. He used his magic to see if any of his things had been removed from the hidden pockets of his robes, but it appeared that no one had found them. Harry pulled his clothes on. He was feeling a bit mortified that someone had removed his clothes to begin with. Not because he cared if people saw him naked, he'd gotten over that insecurity a long time ago. But because he had a lot of scars from his past, many of them that told of stories that Harry was neither comfortable, nor willing to recount simply for another's curiosities.

Harry was just strapping up his dragon hide boots when he realized that something _was_ missing. Where was Sisera? Harry stood and pulled his robes on, not bothering to do up the front as he made his way out of the room and into the bright morning. Harry had to stop a moment in his tracks as he took in his first sight of Rivendell.

It was magnificent and breathtaking. He'd thought his first sight of Hogwarts was the most beautiful thing he'd ever see, but this was so much more. And Harry could only assume that these elves must have some sort of magic on their side as the architecture was just so detailed and precise. Of course, it could also be that they were very long lived and had plenty of time on their hands. Harry breathed out and shook his head as he was suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he was indeed in another world.

A single clear bell sounded and not a moment later another elf walked up behind him, this one male and armed to the teeth. So he was to have an armed escort while in Rivendell, not too surprising, he was an unknown to them as much as they were unknown to him. Harry would have felt much better however, having Sisera in his hands, even if he didn't intend to use her, the threat was a nice deterrent. This was probably why they took her away. Of course, he could call her to him if he really needed her. There wasn't much that could keep them apart really; she was a part of his magic after all.

"Merith, I presume?" Harry asked.

The elf nodded distractedly as he took in Harry's right hand. Harry cringed, he'd forgotten to put on his glove, and now that he thought about it that was missing as well. The elf pulled his eyes away before Harry could explain. "That was the warning bell for the Council of Elrond. Gandalf the Grey is to be in attendance, you will have to wait until they are through. I will take you to the hall to wait."

Harry nodded, though he was the slightest bit impatient, and followed the elf. The hall he lead Harry to was light and airy, much like the rest of Rivendell. Harry sat himself at a long table, which was empty, the whole hall was empty. Was almost everyone at this Council of Elrond? Harry shook his head and then as his stomach growled again, he wondered if he could possibly get some food while he waited. He was about to ask when he saw one of his companions walking on the other side of one of the tall windows, his head showing not much over the windowsill. It was Sam and he seemed to be sneaking by, but on his way to where?

Harry narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and then looked to Merith who had his back to Harry as he stood by the door, and then to the low open window again. Harry, as quietly as he could, as he didn't know how keen these elves' hearing were, crept over to the window, and looking back at Merith once more, stepped out and followed in the direction he had seen Sam go.

As Harry discreetly followed Sam, he decided that there was one good thing about all the open airiness of Rivendell. The buildings clearly weren't meant for keeping people prisoner. Had they been back in Hogwarts, Harry never would have been able to escape the hall with only the one door that led to freedom, not to mention that Harry had trained his people to never turn their backs on a potential enemy, armed or not. They'd discovered curses could be cast even without a wand as long as the curse was attached to something physical that wouldn't be destroyed by the curse. The Imperious Curse had become something to be feared after they had learned that nearly twenty percent of the Aurors had been under its influence since the beginning of the war due to a medal they had received for their services. After that'd been discovered, every object had been considered dangerous until proved otherwise.

Harry stopped in the shadow of a house and watched as Sam sneaked around a gathering of some sort. None on the open porch seemed to take notice of him as he crept closer, clearly trying to find a better spot to listen by. Harry looked back the way they had come and then out over the porch. Sam rather stealthily moved from one side of the porch to the other without being seen. It was obvious that he had some experience in eavesdropping.

Harry wished he had his staff at that moment so that he could conceal himself completely and go into the gathering to listen himself, but as he didn't know what had become of Sisera, he was going to have to use his skills in eavesdropping himself.

Harry waved his hand at his feet to silence his steps and then crept from shadowed area to shadowed area slowly. He kept his eyes on the gathering to see if any took notice, but none appeared to. He almost wished he had the Hobbit's lack of height as he found that he couldn't get as close as Sam, who was currently hiding behind a low wall. And as he couldn't get as close, he couldn't hear as clearly. A good disillusionment charm would have been handy right now, but his magic was still fluctuating and he didn't want to take the chance of it failing him while he was out in the open, besides, he wanted to hear and see what was going on.

Harry stayed where he was. Every once in a while, he'd catch some of what was being said, mostly in raised voices, arguing. From what he'd gathered, they were discussing a ring. Perhaps the object that felt like a Horcrux that Harry had finally come to sense on Frodo. Maybe the same object that had made the Hobbit disappear at Weathertop. But what was so special about this ring that had this council fighting over what to do with it?

Harry risked creeping closer as he heard that it was decided that they would destroy the ring and then everyone fell silent whilst deciding who would take on the task. Harry was now in a position to actually see the ring sitting harmlessly in the middle of a stone table.

It was a simple gold ring, but now that Harry had laid eyes on the Horcrux type object, it called to him stronger than any of Voldemort's Horcruxes ever had and he had been one of them. It was only Frodo's uneasy and quiet voice that snapped him out of his absurd want to rush over and take the ring for himself.

"I will take the ring," he said, "though I do not know the way."

Harry pulled himself back as who seemed to be the leader of the council, a male elf with long dark hair, spoke calmly, but clearly, staring at Frodo almost piercingly. "If I understand aright all that I have heard," he said, "I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and councils of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck?

"But it is a heavy burden. So heavy, that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will say that your choice is right; and though all the mighty elf-friends of old, Hador, and Húrin, and Túrin, and Beren himself were assembled together, your seat should be among them."

Harry stared at the elf numbly. What? He was going to let the small Hobbit take on this task, alone. Just as Harry was about to barge in and argue against such a course of action Sam jumped up from his hiding spot and beat him to it. At least someone seemed to have some sense.

"But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?" cried Sam.

"No indeed!" the elf said, turning towards Sam with a smile. "You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Sam sat down, blushing and muttering, "A nice pickle we have landed ourselves in, Mr. Frodo!" he said, shaking his head.

But Harry wasn't settled by that. Being someone who had constantly been thrown into danger alone and ill prepared, he wasn't about to allow Frodo to be chosen as he had been. No matter, that the Hobbit was older than he was. If this were to be his task, he would not go alone, even if Harry had to go with him. He stepped forward into sight and every eye seemed to settle on his black clad form in an instant. He certainly stood out among all here.

"Another eavesdropper," the elf said, though with less amusement than he'd shown to Sam.

"They will not go alone," Harry said seriously, lacing power into his voice. There would be no mistaking his intentions.

Sam and Frodo both jumped up with smiles on their faces, completely ignorant of the tense air that had settled with Harry's unexpected arrival.

"Harry, you're all right!" Frodo exclaimed.

"We were ever so worried, when Mr. Frodo woke, but you hadn't," Sam said directly afterwards.

"I am well," he said with a smile to the two, but didn't take his eyes off the elf. "And I am grateful for your healing, but I will not allow them to go alone and be put in harm's way because men far stronger than them are afraid of the power an object possesses. As I was one who lived under the power of a similar object, I can tell you that carrying out such a task as destroying it should not be undertaken lightly, or by one unprepared to face danger or even death."

Frodo looked uncertain at Harry's words and Sam just looked scared. Harry didn't want to frighten them, but he wanted them to know what they were potentially getting themselves into. And if the way he reacted to the object was anything to go by, then destroying it was not going to be easy.

"And who are you to know of such objects?" a man asked from the other side of the porch.

Harry turned to him, but it was Frodo who spoke. "He is Harry, a Wizard like Gandalf. He saved our lives from the riders at Weathertop. The riders fled before his power, they were afraid of him!"

Harry wanted to correct the Hobbit; they weren't scared of him, just adverse to the spell he had used. Harry doubted that the black riders could be scared of anything but whoever controlled them. He couldn't, however bring himself to squash Frodo's innocence that way. The Hobbit may be older than him, but he was still a child in many ways.

"I have heard the telling of your tale, Harry the Black. It was most courageous of you to stand against the Ring Wraiths," an old man with grey beard and gray robes spoke. Was this the wizard, Gandalf the Gray?

"Courageous and foolish," stated Strider, though it wasn't said with scorn, but respect. "It is good to see you well again, Harry."

Harry nodded to the man. "It is good to be well again," he said in return. "For a moment I thought my life was all over, again," he added with a smirk to reduce the effects of his words on the Hobbits.

"It was a grievous wound you suffered and I have to admit, I am amazed that you were able to overcome it. Even I may have fared worse," the old man stated.

"I cannot say what after effects will come from such dark magic, but I can say it will not conquer me," Harry said with certainty, trying not to let his disappointment show in his voice. It was going to take a strong Wizard, perhaps even stronger than himself to get him home, and if this old man was in fact Gandalf, he had little hope of ever seeing his home again. "You are Gandalf the Gray?" he finally asked when no introductions seemed to be forth coming.

"I am indeed and I have heard much about you."

"Then you have me at a disadvantage, for I have heard little of you," Harry stated.

…

_AN: Until next time._


	4. The Ring Goes

_Disclaimer: I own no rights to Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings._

_AN: Some speech is taken directly from Lord of the Rings._

Chapter Three – The Ring Goes…

Harry sat before he was invited to in the hall he had snuck from not so long ago. Elrond had shown him back there after he had dismissed the council upon Merith's arrival looking for Harry. The Elf had been clearly embarrassed that he had allowed Harry to slip away, but Harry had assured him that he had snuck away from far more powerful men than him. Harry still wasn't sure whether Merith had taken that as an insult or not.

Gandalf arrived to the hall just as Harry was sitting at one of the long tables. In one hand, he carried a wooden staff, and in the other, he carried Harry's. Harry stood immediately as he approached. If there was one thing he disliked most, it was others with power handling Sisera. He wanted to demand his staff back or simply just take it, but he held his tongue unwilling to appear rude when Gandalf was likely just returning her to him, which did indeed seem to be the case.

"An interesting staff," Gandalf complimented as he handed Sisera to Harry.

Harry ran his hand over the smooth ivory surface feeling safe with the connection they shared. "Yes," he agreed, but did not elaborate more. If Gandalf wanted to know more about his staff, he could ask Strider – Aragorn, he mentally corrected – or any of the Hobbits, for what they knew was all he was willing to share on the subject. Harry sat back down, again not waiting for an invitation.

Elrond and Gandalf shared a bemused glance with each other and then sat as well. Elrond at the head of the table and Gandalf across from Harry. Harry placed his staff to lie visibly on the table. He would have just ordered her to her snake form, but decided against it for now. He looked between the Elf and older Wizard expectantly. He wasn't quite sure where to begin. There was much to tell, but there was also much he felt that he should keep secret about himself, and at the same time if either of them could help him they might need the details. It was rather unnerving to Harry to be on such unfamiliar ground, as it were. The last time he'd felt this… blind, was when he'd lost his sight.

"Aragorn indicated that you could not see when they came upon you. That must have been inconvenient," Gandalf stated lightly.

Harry stilled a heartbeat at the odd coincidence that they had just been thinking on similar lines. He considered that the Wizard had been reading his thoughts, but squashed that idea. Severus and he had never been able to make Harry's mind impenetrable. Harry was absolute rubbish at Occlumency in a large part thanks the Horcrux that had resided inside his head for almost two decades, but he could certainly tell when someone was rummaging through his head.

Harry found himself smirking instead at the man's wording. It was part question. It rather reminded him of Dumbledore, but again, if the older Wizard wanted to know more he could ask his questions to those he'd already told. It wasn't that Harry was unwilling to repeat himself, only he was wary of saying much of anything of his weaknesses to any man he knew little of and as unassuming as Gandalf appeared to be, he wasn't going to just take him at face value. Dumbledore after all, had always looked frail, when he was one of the most powerful wizards in the world.

"Yes," Harry finally agreed. "It was inconvenient."

Elrond met Gandalf's eyes again for a moment before he looked back at Harry. "May I ask how you happened to be on that particular road when Aragorn came upon you?" he asked.

Harry's smirk stayed on his lips. Elrond may be asking how he'd been on that road, but Harry was sure that what he was really asking was, why. Harry chose to answer the question spoken and not the actual one, as he didn't really have an answer for that yet.

"I'd say you just did, and I would answer, but that is a mystery," Harry said with a small smile, which faded some at his next careful words. "I can't honestly say I know _how_ I happen to be there. Only that magic and I believe time was involved," he said cryptically.

"Time?" asked Elrond.

Harry nodded. "Time," he repeated.

"Are you indicating that you are from the future?" Gandalf questioned slowly.

Harry thought about that for a moment and then shrugged. "I can't say that I am or not, though I'm not sure it's a matter of when I'm from, but more importantly, where I'm from, and that is very far from here. I can say with certainty that it is not a place that I can walk or ride, or even fly to."

"You are not of this world," Elrond summarized, not looking surprised though he did glance at Gandalf meaningfully.

Harry hesitated, but then nodded. He hadn't thought that they'd catch on so fast. Had something like this happened before? Did people from other dimensions pop in regularly for tea? Harry was about to snort at his own thoughts, but then perked up a bit. If it had happened before, did they know how to send him back? Harry was about to ask when Gandalf rose looking troubled. Elrond too looked bothered.

"It is not something that I could have fathomed and their purpose I cannot say," Gandalf said, though he did not seem to be speaking to either of them as he paced beside the table. Harry could only frown in confusion.

"If it is their will that he should be here, then he must have a purpose," Elrond stated, glancing at Harry.

Gandalf nodded and then looked at Harry piercingly. "What is your purpose, Harry the Black?"

Harry looked between the two, somewhat taken-a-back. "Umm, my purpose?" he asked slowly. "I suppose my purpose is to find a way home. It is why I came here, to seek your help, if you can give it."

Elrond and Gandalf met eyes again and Harry had the feeling that his answer wasn't something that either of them was expecting, if the questioning look they shared with one another was any indication.

"Look, I'm not sure what you expected me to say right then. I arrived here directly from a…" Harry hated the word, but it was what it was, "From a suicide mission. I had little notion that I would survive, and had never even conceived that I would end up in another world entirely. If I'm supposed to have some purpose here, I'm… well, I'm blind to it. I just – I want to find a way home; that is all."

Gandalf and Elrond stared at him, in clear contemplation and it as just as Gandalf was going to say something, that Aragorn and two Elves, Harry recognized from the council entered into the hall.

"Forgive us Ada," one of the two Elves said respectfully. "We have decided who is to go and are setting out shortly."

Elrond stood as he nodded. He turned to Harry. "We will continue this discussion another time, but for now, Merith will show you back to your room," he said and then left with the three, Gandalf following behind them.

Harry stared after them, wondering on their abrupt departure. He looked to Merith who'd just come back into the hall. "I don't suppose I can get some food?" he asked of the elf.

…

A ring is a simple thing; made of precious metals, molded and fit to size, and polished to shine with a glimmer in the dimmest light. Some rings mean more than others. Some hold a promise, some a vow, and still some are symbolic of things far greater than the mortal realm. Twenty rings were created with a purpose; three went to the elves, the most noble and long lived of races; seven to the dwarves, whose mountains held the mysteries of the world; and nine to the race of men, whose kings had lived and died and faded into history. And then there was the one ring, the last ring, created to bind all rings together and give the wearer the power to doom the world. Or so said Gandalf.

Harry had been sitting and thinking on the little porch attached to his rooms when Gandalf had entered without so much as a knock on the door that was already open anyway. He'd asked – in a way that there was no mistaking it to be anything but an order – for Harry to come with him. He wanted to show Harry what he thought was part of his purpose. Harry had little else to do but follow, so he did.

Now he was currently staring at this One Ring, sitting harmlessly in Frodo's hand. The story hadn't made much sense to Harry as Gandalf had unfolded it for him, but now, looking at the ring up close, really feeling it's power calling to him, it all made perfect sense. Harry was no stranger to objects with power, the Wizarding world had its fair share of them, but this object, this One Ring, scared him just as much as the thought of ever using the three Deathly Hollows combined.

Harry prided himself on being strong willed. At the age of eleven, he'd resisted the urge to find and lose himself in the Mirror of Erised. At the age of twelve, he'd faced a fully-grown basilisk and not even contemplated leaving Ginny to save his own life. At thirteen, he'd conjured a Patronus, even as the Dementors forced him to relive some of his worst memories, he'd still found the strength to push them aside and bring forth happy thoughts and save him and godfather's lives. When he was fourteen, he'd fought against the Imperious Curse, a curse so strong, it was unforgivable, and it had only taken him one try to overcome it. At the age of fifteen, his will had been tested many times over, but it was being possessed by Voldemort that had really been the challenge. Being able to push the Dark Lord from his mind was evidence enough that his will was ironclad. Since then his will had been tested many times over, but his resolve to push forward, to not be swayed by fear, greed, envy, hate, all of the negative emotions that had the potential to turn him into the next dark lord, had stayed strong.

Now this ring was in front of him and just as had happened at the Council, he felt the urge to take it, keep it for his own, and worst of all, use it. And he could use it, he had the power to do so, and who could really stop him? Gandalf certainly wasn't powerful enough. Harry felt his hand reach out to Frodo's, saw the scarred fingers of his left hand twitch with the anticipation of having it slipped on. He could almost feel the cool metal around his index finger.

Frodo looked up at him uncertainly and then slowly pulled back his hand. Gandalf touched Harry's shoulder firmly and Harry forced himself to take a step back. He looked away from the ring and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He took another step back. Harry was certain that if Gandalf hadn't been there, he would have taken the ring from Frodo. And as he took another step away, Harry reassessed his thoughts that this object was like a Horcrux, because this ring was nothing like a Horcrux. It was far more powerful. The pieces of Voldemort's soul were almost pitiful in comparison.

Harry turned away from Frodo, who had hidden the ring again, and faced Gandalf. "I'm sorry, excuse me," he said with forced politeness and then left the room.

Once Harry was outside in the cool evening air, he felt more himself. Whatever hold the ring was forcing onto him was gone and he couldn't believe the effect it'd had on him. Not even Voldemort's locket that Hermione, Ron, and he had carried around for months had changed his whole personality as much as the ring was trying to do. This tiny object terrified him. And what scared him more, was what he could do with it. The thought that the ring could possibly get him home briefly entered his mind, but Harry shoved it aside viciously. He wasn't going to start thinking like that. The ring needed to be destroyed and it was very clear that he would not be the one to do it. But he would still help Frodo in any way he could, he just had to not set eyes on the ring again.

"I have felt spells that don't match the power of that ring. How can Frodo so calmly hold it? Certainly, it must be affecting him in some way?" Harry asked Gandalf as he heard him walk up beside him.

"Hobbits are remarkable people. They neither hold the greed of men, the superiority of the elves, nor the stubbornness of the dwarves. They want nothing, yet they have little. And I think for these traits alone, Frodo will be the one to destroy the ring." Gandalf sounded earnest, as if this was what he really believed.

Harry wasn't so sure in that belief. Maybe the ring wasn't affecting Frodo yet, but that didn't mean it wouldn't over time. He could only hope that Frodo could destroy the ring first. "I'd like to go with Frodo to destroy the ring," Harry said softly before finally turning to look Gandalf in the eyes. "If I can't destroy it myself, I'd at least like to see it destroyed first hand. And maybe that's my purpose."

Gandalf stared back at him almost blankly and Harry wondered if the old wizard was debating whether or not it was wise to have Harry go with Frodo when he'd had such a strong reaction to the ring. Harry wondered if it was wise for him to go anywhere the ring was going, but he knew he had to see it destroyed for his own piece of mind.

"Those who are to journey with Frodo are not yet known, though I will consider your request," Gandalf said in reply. "But what of your ambition to return home?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "You had said on our walk over here, that you know of no way for me to go home," he said keeping the disappointment he felt out of his voice. "Eventually I will find a way," he said stubbornly. "Until then, I might as well be useful."

"Your purpose could be to see the ring destroyed, or it could lie elsewhere in Middle-Earth. Only time can tell us. But until then, Lord Elrond has welcomed you as his guest and you may stay until you decide to leave, or with Frodo, if that is to be your path," Gandalf said kindly. "I only ask that you keep away from the ring. Do not ask to see it again, and do not let Frodo show it to you."

Harry shook his head. "You don't have to tell me twice. I have stared into darkness and it has stared into me too many times for me to count. I have no desire to be that close to it again, in whatever form it takes."

Gandalf nodded and then smiled. "Well, what say you we head for dinner? From what I hear, you have a small group waiting to thank you for saving their lives. It's bound to be quite the celebration."

Harry cringed slightly when Gandalf turned his back. He was hoping to stay away from the spotlight while he was in this strange world, but it seemed that as Hermione had once told him, he was born to stand out no matter what world he was in. She of course had meant the Wizarding and Muggle worlds…

…

Over the following weeks, Harry spent much of his time with the Hobbits. He had of course been introduced to Bilbo, Frodo's uncle, who had arrived in Rivendell long before them. The old Hobbit had been both a source of entertainment and a friend during his stay. Bilbo was a storyteller. He'd had many stories to tell both about his own adventures and about past adventures taken by others. Harry had come to learn a lot about Middle-Earth from him. And Bilbo Baggins, seemed to have accepted him irrevocably, unlike others Harry had encountered thus far.

It had now been two months. Two months since Harry had woken in Rivendell. Two months since Lord Elrond had chosen Frodo to take the ring to its end. Two months since Harry had found out there was likely no way for him to get home. For those two months, Harry had felt displaced. He was welcomed cautiously by the Elves and even more so by the Hobbits, but he never felt as if he belonged, even while sitting and listening to Bilbo weave his tales. And that was because he didn't belong. He was a trespasser in this land and he knew it.

Growing up, he'd never felt like he belonged among the ordinary, _normal_ people, as his aunt and uncle liked to boast. Even after he'd found out about being a wizard, he'd always felt like he was the strange one, the _freak_, according to his relatives. But here, he felt like he was the normal one, stuck in an extraordinary world. Magic was so different here. Those that Harry had first thought had little magic, proved to be even more magical then some of the creatures Harry had come across in his life. It was a hidden magic, a unique magic, but still magic.

Nevertheless, it wasn't magic enough to get him home and what was worse, Gandalf didn't seem inclined to help him. Whether or not he couldn't or wouldn't help him, Harry wasn't sure at this point. He did know that Gandalf and Elrond both seemed to believe that he had been sent here, as Gandalf had, by the Valar, whoever they were. He'd not really gotten a straight answer on that one. But he'd gleaned from Bilbo's stories that they were spoken of as if they were some sort of gods. Harry had only shaken his head unable to wrap his mind around the thought that he had been plucked out of his dimension by some Middle-Earthen gods for some purpose that only Harry could guess at. Harry was sticking to his theory of a faulty time turner. That at least gave him the small hope of returning home someday.

"Harry the Black," a voice Harry recognized belonging to the Lady Arwen spoke up behind him. Harry turned slightly. "You had been called to council today," she said lightly as she came to stand beside him.

Harry looked back out over the now frozen valley that edged Rivendell. He'd come to this spot often in the past two months, if only for some time alone to think, but for the most part to get away from the eyes that seemed to watch his every move while he was in the city. He didn't know if they didn't trust him, or if they were simply just curious, but he hadn't had so many eyes following him since he was a student at Hogwarts. It was uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I forgot," Harry said casually. In fact, he hadn't forgotten, he just didn't feel the need to be there. "Gandalf isn't angry with me I hope," Harry half asked, and half didn't care either way. He had been getting restless to find someone else who could possibly get him home for some time now, but Gandalf hadn't even suggested anyone who could help him, though he was beginning to suspect that there was someone, and Gandalf was just unwilling to say whom.

Arwen turned from looking over the land. "Do you not know?" she asked.

"Do I not know what?" Harry questioned, glancing at her.

"The Fellowship has left Rivendell. It has been five days since."

Harry quickly turned fully toward her. "They left?" he asked. "Why didn't anyone tell me they were leaving?" He said angrily and then swiftly started back towards the city, Arwen following.

"I know not, Harry, I thought you knew they had gone," Arwen said, sounding slightly distressed.

"If I had known, I would have gone with them!" He said over his shoulder as he moved swiftly through the streets.

He arrived to the hall the council was being held in that day, in very little time. There were quite a few in the council today, but Harry only sought one person out, and he practically threw himself to get across the hall to the Elf. And would have thrown himself at the Elf lord altogether if not for the sight of the guards that reminded him to keep his anger in check, and he reminded himself, he was a guest here.

"Elrond!" Harry did let himself shout in frustration though as he approached. "Why didn't anyone inform me that Frodo and the others were leaving?"

Elrond stood calmly as Harry stopped a few feet from him. "Gandalf felt that you should stay here," he said simply. "He knew you would have followed if you were informed that they were leaving."

"Damn right I would have followed!" Harry all but growled. "In fact I am following," he said decisively, and then turned on his heel and started to leave the hall. Two of the Elvin guards stepped into his path however. "Move," Harry said darkly.

"They will not," Elrond said with a hint of command in his voice.

Harry turned back and stood up to his full height. It wasn't nearly as impressive as Elrond's or even Aragorn's, but he let his magic flair ever so slightly, and he knew it made him seem taller. He didn't hold his staff, it was back in his room, and he didn't pull any weapons, but even still, he could see the wariness grow on the faces around him.

"Lord Elrond, do not think to hold me against my will. Far stronger beings than you have tried and failed, and it cost them dearly." Harry spoke truthfully. "I have welcomed your hospitality, and I wish not to harm you or your people, but I will act in my own defense and with no mercy."

Elrond stared hard at him. Harry had given little of his past to anyone during his stay. The small bits he'd shared with the Hobbits and Aragorn on the road being most of it. He had kept his abilities to himself so as not to make those here fear him and act defensively because of their fear, but he wasn't sure if his unwillingness to show his true character was going to work in his favor here or not. Elrond was hard to judge.

"Then you leave me no choice," Elrond finally said with a hard edge to his voice. "Let him leave," he ordered and the guards behind Harry stepped aside. Harry was actually rather shocked by that announcement, he hadn't expected it. "But know, Harry the Black, that they are five days ahead of you and are moving swiftly. You will not catch up with them of this I am certain."

"You may be certain, but I'm not. I have to at least try," Harry stated and turned to leave the hall. The Elves present stood and watched him go.

Harry really didn't know why he needed to follow the Fellowship as Arwen had called it. He just felt as if he needed to help Frodo in any way he could, and he couldn't do it, sitting around here. Maybe his purpose was after all to follow Frodo. He walked swiftly back to his rooms. He was annoyed with himself that he hadn't noticed when they had left, or that they had been gone for so long. He should have noticed. He hadn't seen any of the Hobbits, but Frodo's uncle, in days. Not seeing Gandalf on a daily basis was commonplace, or even Aragorn, but not the Hobbits.

Harry wondered who else had gone with Frodo as he retrieved Sisera from his room. She was his only possession that wasn't hidden within his robes. He did contemplate entreating the Elves for supplies for his journey, but he didn't want to waste any time. He still had the water skin that Aragorn had given him, and he could find food in the wild well enough, he was a Wizard after all.

Harry did make one stop on his way out of Rivendell, however, and that was to say goodbye to Bilbo. Harry knocked on the doorframe to alert the studiously writing Hobbit of his presence. "I'm leaving to follow Frodo, I wanted to say goodbye before I left."

Bilbo looked up from his writing. "I am saddened to see you go, Black Wizard." Harry smirked at the title; he'd yet to get Bilbo to call him simply Harry. "But I am heartened that you are following Frodo. He will welcome your help."

"I only wish Gandalf agreed and informed me when they were leaving. I hope to see you again one day, but I'm uncertain of the road ahead," Harry said truthfully. He really had no idea what was in store for his future.

"I'm sure it will be an interesting road, and if we do see one another again, Black Wizard, I expect a story or two."

Harry smiled at the Hobbit. "And you shall have one or two. Goodbye Bilbo."

"Farewell, Harry," Bilbo said and Harry startled before shaking his head in amusement and then he left.

Harry was just on the edge of Rivendell when Arwen came running up to him. "I had hoped I would catch you before you were gone. My father would not help you, for he feels you should not go, but I am of a different mind."

She thrust what looked like a thin shaved wooden log at him, which hung on a leather cord. When Harry took it, he found that it was very light and there was a lid. He opened it and pulled out a rolled up stack of parchments. He unrolled them. "Maps," Harry said, looking up at her in surprise.

"They will be missed, I am sure, but that is the planned route of the Fellowship. Do not lose them or let them fall into evil hands," she said seriously.

Harry rolled them back up with great care and slid them back into the hallowed log; he hid it within the folds of his robes, inside one of his hidden and expanded pockets. "I won't, and thank you," he said sincerely.

Arwen whispered something in Elfish that Harry didn't understand and then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Be safe, Harry the Black," she said and then turned and left him.

Harry watched her go for a moment and then turned and walked on. He had a long road ahead of him, and he knew it was going to be some time before he caught up with the others, but he was hopeful that he would catch up. He was one on foot, and they were many. As swiftly as they might be moving, it was also going to be slow going as they tried to stay hidden.

…

It had been just over two weeks since Harry had set out from Rivendell, and he was sorely tempted to find that horse that had saved him from the black rider and taken him to Rivendell. His feet hurt, he was hungry, though not as hungry as he could be, and Sisera was being not so helpful company. Every time they stopped to rest, she insisted that they turn back. Harry had just begun to cave to her suggestions when he'd seen the light on the side of the mountain.

It was a wonder that Harry had seen it at all. He could make out the heavy clouds of what was likely a terrible storm hanging over the mountains; even as far off as he was, and he knew that snow was likely falling heavily there. The only reason the light had caught his attention at all was because it wasn't only bright, but he had felt it even as far away as he was.

It had most certainly been created by magic and as it was in the direction that the Fellowship was likely to have gone, according to the maps, Harry could only assume it was Gandalf who'd created it. It gave Harry new hope that he would catch up with them. He debated a line of site Apparation, but then shook his head of the idea. He could see the light, yes, but he had no idea what the terrain was like up there. He could end up further up the mountain, or even fall to his death.

Harry pulled out and looked at his gifted maps. In the dark, with only the light of a tiny blue bell flame hanging over his shoulder, he traced his finger down the detailed drawing of the mountain range he was at the base off. He wasn't going to be able to go the way they were, and still have any hope of catching up with them. He'd only lag behind further, especially if the weather persisted.

There was a pass though, through the mountains, at the Gap of Rohan, according to the map. If he went that way, making a few jumps with Apparation, and assuming he didn't run into anything untoward along the way, he'd likely get to the other side before the Fellowship, or shortly thereafter at any rate. Why they hadn't just gone that way to begin with was a mystery. But Harry wasn't travelling with a group and a too brave Hobbit, who carried the One Ring, so that was likely part of it.

Debating camping where he was for the night and starting off again fresh in the morning, Harry looked around the area. It wasn't a bad place to stop, but something prickled the back of Harry's neck and it wasn't the magic from Gandalf's spell. Something was watching him, but there wasn't anything he could see. Harry kept on walking in the dark.

Harry only walked for an hour more before his tired body reminded him that he was pushing himself. He found a sheltered group of trees and made camp. He remembered just before sleep claimed him to set up a repelling charm to keep anyone from stumbling across him in his vulnerability.

…

_AN: My only excuse is time has not been on my side._


End file.
